


once bitten

by lemoninagin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Aphrodisiacs, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Bratty Keith (Voltron), Frottage, Horror, Incubus Lance (Voltron), M/M, Murder, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vampire Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoninagin/pseuds/lemoninagin
Summary: Keith is a newly turned vampire unable to control his baser urges. Lance just happens to be in the right place at the right time to help him learn a little discipline.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 177





	once bitten

**Author's Note:**

> some last minute spooks and goofs. yeah technically it’s november now but whatever i wrote this at the highest peak of the witching hour so it’s got that extra ghost spice, okay? wear masks, stay safe <3

Blood hangs heavy in the air.

In Hell, there’s nothing strange about that—Lance has grown used to the scent there. With his return to Earth, however, it stands out as distinctly rancid. More repulsive than usual.

Having recently fed, Lance’s senses are heightened, making him feel unstoppable and ready to fight whatever might be lurking around this deep part of the woods. He cracks his knuckles, power drawing into his fingertips where it settles, alighting each with flame to lead his way through the dark.

Aimlessly, he follows the scent.

Trees bend and fold out of his path as he traipses slowly into a field. Piles of dead leaves crackle into ash beneath him from the heat of his body. The night is chilly, the first appearance of a harvest moon bathing him in a blanket of red, highlighting against the bronze of his bare chest. 

There wasn’t any time to get appropriately dressed before he left his last rendezvous, which is typical behavior for demons of his class, who often prefer to stay nude altogether. Lance doesn’t care for the trivialities of human social obligations. Since he was soon returning to the West Exit of Hell, it was of no great concern to him.

Before he departs, he’s immersed in the concept of causing some mischief first, growing giddier by the second. The overwhelming scent strengthens when he breaches the clearing and spots a dilapidated cabin in the distance.

Lance has seen Earth movies like this before. This is going to be a fun night.

Mist seeps around him, dispersing only when he shuffles to the door and playfully knocks. It isn’t surprising that no one answers—Lance expects as much—but he likes to mess around. There’s no lights on nor cars parked in the driveway. Most of the windows are broken and the rotting wooden boards of the porch creak protestingly as Lance steps over them. 

It appears to be abandoned, possibly condemned.

Still, there’s a sound coming from inside. It thrums under the bottom of the door. Slick noises like someone tearing into a raw steak, followed by a low growl.

Lance tilts his head curiously. With a spreading grin, he blasts the door with fire, tail swishing into the air. Fully prepared to see a wild animal or something of the sort that will play with him. If he’s _really_ lucky, it’ll be that bastard werewolf he hates, Lotor—what he wouldn’t give to singe the ears off that puppy. 

There is something there, alright. Not anything he’s expecting, but at least he’s solved the mystery behind the smell as it blasts him full force in the face.

Hunched over the dusty carpet in the middle of the room is a man. Or more specifically, something inhuman masquerading as a man. Red, half-lidded eyes dart to Lance through the dark, sclera reflecting two unsettling pinpoints boring into him. Unfocused and completely out of it.

“Oh my.”

It’s an absolute massacre. There’s blood everywhere. Dribbling down the man’s chin, shining between the cracks of his white teeth as he grins lazily to Lance, exposing sharp fangs. His hair is long and dark but tacky at the ends from the liquid. The white shirt he’s wearing never stood a chance.

Lance continues tracking the carnage until he reaches the prone body below the man. He puts two and two together easily from there.

“Well,” he smiles amicably back, rocking on the balls of his feet.

With a measured step forward, he sets off some calming pheromones, approaching the man with not an ounce of fear in him. He receives a light warning hiss in response—all bark and no bite—as he tips the man’s chin, inspecting those riveting eyes staring him down.

“Aren’t you just delightful?”

* * *

Lance observes the young vampire from across his room, fascinated. It glares at him in return.

“This is unnecessary,” he hisses, clamoring against the bars. “Let me go so I can kick your ass.”

Really, Lance finds him too annoying and peculiar to be kept as a long-term pet. He’s such a noisy thing.

The vampire’s speech is slurred, clearly struggling to speak which makes it hard for Lance to take him seriously. His fangs are awkward and keep nicking into his bottom lip every so often, signaling to Lance that it hasn’t been at all long since he turned. Maybe less than a few weeks, if that. 

It was quite the frenzy he’d fallen into and even more of a mess that Lance found him in. The guy was lucky he discovered the scene before any of the Earth authorities.

Lance thinks back to the other night in the cabin.

Blood pooled around where the vampire was feeding, spreading into the design of the carpet where it was absorbed by the white spaces between Victorian patterns. The dead eyes and pallor of the vampire’s victim had greeted Lance then—their mouth still frozen open in terror, wounds on their throat so severe it gave an impression of a second gaping smile. 

It had been an impressive kill. Unskilled, though. Most vampires wouldn’t need to nearly decapitate their victim in order to feed from them.

This vampire is weak. All that blood might have satiated him in that moment, but it’s obvious he hasn’t yet learned the best way of utilizing it for energy, draining himself too fast too soon with all his fighting and snarling and cursing Lance every step of the way once he regained his senses. It won’t be long until he will be hungry again.

Lance is sure they can come to some agreement here. Because he’s hungry again, too.

And vampire energy is as delicious as it is rare for him to find. 

The bars rattle, reverberating loudly around Lance’s room, ripping him from his thoughts. The vampire is clutching at them, fangs bared in warning. “I hope you know that I’m going to rip your throat open the second you take your guard down,” he threatens.

“Nah.” Lance waves a dismissive hand to him. “You couldn’t even if you tried, sweetheart.”

The bars are taking some serious abuse. Lance is starting to get a headache from the banging. This might be more trouble than it’s worth.

“Anyway, what good’ll that do?” Bored, Lance forms fire within his palm and juggles the small flame between his hands. “You’ll just send me back to admissions, so like, it’s only going to give someone in the brimstone _major_ paperwork to do. And trust me, the Lindas and Karens are _not_ enemies you wanna make.”

“So what, are you a demon or some shit?” The vampire stumbles away from the bars to clutch his hand, skin breaking into an angry red rash from the silver Lance painted onto them. He scratches at it, frowning. “These runes hurt.”

“Incubus, yeah.”

The vampire’s brows raise. Then he laughs, which catches Lance off guard. “Oh.” He leers at Lance with one fang poking over his fat lip, seemingly amused. “I’ll have nothing to worry about then.”

Lance's flame extinguishes in a flurry of sparks. He props a hand onto his hip, taking offense to the remark. “Uh, excuse me?”

“It’s just—” Another laugh. “You guys are the lowest of the low, aren’t you? What are you gonna do, fuck me to death?” 

“Don’t tempt me.” 

The weight of that hangs there. Lance becomes intrigued as the guy checks him out in no subtle manner, his threat taken as more invitation rather than intimidation, apparently. Settling extra heat into the fresh need that’s beginning to overtake Lance’s body again.

The vampire shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like the worst way to go. Although, technically I’m already dead. So.”

Lance huffs a long breath through his nose. Judging by the mocking tone, he’s not sure how seriously he should take that offer.

“What were you even doing all the way out there, anyway?” he asks, leaning against the bars. “I don’t usually come across anyone in that part of the woods.”

“All I know is that I was at my job one second, and the next, you found me. I don’t remember anything else except that something in the air smelled…” The vampire sighs wistfully. “... _so_ good.” 

He licks his lips hungrily at the thought, accidentally tasting his own blood. Grimacing when he realizes the damage he’s been doing every time he talks. Lance doubts it tastes as good as someone else’s blood.

“I was just...so thirsty…” 

A heady glaze is reforming over his eyes when he flicks his attention to Lance, pupils expanding, likely triggered by the memory. His nostrils flare as Lance draws closer and caresses his knuckles down his cheek. 

Lance smirks. No stamina but plenty of enthusiasm, this one. Fresh vampires are always ready to go another round.

“Poor thing,” Lance coos, thumb feathering across the skin of his cheek. “So far away from home with nothing to satisfy you.”

“It hurts,” the vampire whimpers in response. “I don’t—I don’t know why this is happening to me. Please make it stop.” 

“I’ll tell you what.” Lance bops him on the nose, pressing in as close as he can manage to whisper in his ear. “Give me your name and I’ll let you out, where you can have a nice helping of ol’ Lancey-Lance here. Then maybe we can have some fun in exchange.”

The vampire looks reluctant to revel that information, expression turning momentarily sour. But eventually, he reigns in that emotion and mutters, “Keith.”

Bitten lips knock against Lance’s fingertips, Keith parting them slightly as if planning to take them into his mouth. 

Wise to how bad of an idea that might be, Lance retracts them slightly. “Yeah?” he breathes, glancing down to see the blood smeared over his own hand. Becoming distracted by how soft Keith’s mouth had felt.

“Yeah.”

There’s an eager nuzzle into Lance’s palm. Endeared by the gesture, Lance strokes through his fluffy hair, freshly dried from the bath Lance gave him earlier when he was still in his feral state. 

When Keith meets his eyes, he's downright smoldering. With one flutter of his long lashes Lance is absolutely gone.

“I’ll do anything you want if you can make it all go away, Lance.”

So maybe Lance has a bit of a big head that has gotten him into trouble more often than not. He’s in Hell for multiple reasons after all, and vanity’s only one of the many of them. There’s nothing better than the feeling of someone with a pretty face stroking his ego, so he doesn’t see the need to use his compulsion in order to feed off of Keith. There’s trust in him that maybe Keith will behave.

He’ll give Keith what he wants and then he’ll take what’s rightfully his. Strutting to the lock, Lance unlatches it with a flick of his wrist.

Within seconds, he finds himself face down on the cold, hard ground.

“You’re too easy,” Keith barks a laugh, weight heavy upon him. Fangs exposed with venom clinging onto the edges. The droplets that are poised to fall glisten under the dim light as Lance turns his head to glower at him.

The hands on his wrists are like vices. Unconventionally strong for someone supposedly at their weakest in the supernatural cycle.

“Not like I haven’t heard that a thousand times before— _ah_ ,” Lance groans when twin pinpricks pierce into the meat of his neck. 

Not angry enough to fight it, Lance prepares himself to go with the flow, because it’s not like Keith can kill him in a way that counts. He might as well let him go to town before he burns every inch of his body in retaliation.

The guy’s not gonna look too pretty after that, which is why this moment needs to last as long as possible.

Lance would be a liar if he said he wasn’t enjoying this at some level. While he was never one for pain, preferring to inflict it onto others instead to fulfill his passing sadist tendencies, it's not a terrible experience. Keith’s lithe figure is pressing him against the concrete, hot air wafting over his nape whenever he pulls off Lance to catch his breath between gulps of his blood. 

It would be pointless to ruin his features first. Yeah, Lance thinks dazedly, greatly aware of the shift of Keith’s groin dragging over his backside as he changes the angle to puncture him at a higher point, the more sensitive area below his jawline. 

It feels good. A soft, pleased hum is dragged from Lance’s throat. 

The minutes meander on. A vampire feeding doesn’t affect Lance the way it would a human, who would probably be dangerously close to being drained while also on the brink of orgasm considering Keith is using his venom. 

But Lance does feel lightheaded and drunk with the contact.

Heat stirs in the pit of his belly for reasons unrelated as his normal hunger pains begin to manifest. Keith’s rubbing him against the floor as he grows more unhinged, unintentionally coaxing him into arousal regardless.

“Stupid, pointy vamps. Ugh.” Lance wrangles one of his arms loose and swipes weakly at Keith behind him. “That’s enough!” He paws more forcefully when Keith refuses to let up, batting him off until Keith finally sits back on his heels, that crazed look alive in full force.

His hair is in complete disarray. It’s obvious he doesn’t understand the meaning of having manners, sloppy with blood coating his chin and most of his neck. He stares at Lance like he doesn’t quite understand. 

“Learn to control yourself, bat boy!” Lance politely spells it out for him, trying to catch his breath. 

There’s a clamminess in his hands, sweat beading onto his forehead. It would be an accurate assumption to say losing all that blood does have an effect on him to some extent. Besides those somewhat unpleasant symptoms, he discovers that his skin is colder than usual as he scrubs a hand down his face. 

“Damn.”

“I feel…” Keith lifts his free hand, staring at it. Curling his twitching fingers. “Strange.”

“Are you stupid or somethin’? What exactly do you think happens when you feed off an incubus like that?” 

Lifting some stray hair from his face, Keith tucks it back, revealing one very pointed ear tinged pink. His pupils have expanded to the size of marbles. It doesn’t look like he’s registered anything Lance has said as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. While he scrutinizes Lance, his hips incline almost imperceptibly against him.

An attempt at a sly rearrangement, but Lance picks up on it.

“You swallowed the equivalent of like, pints of aphrodisiacs,” he explains. “A little bite wouldn’t have mattered, that’s what I was planning to give you if you had just _waited_ , but yeesh, you’re really in for it now—”

Predictably, Keith’s breath begins coming more rapidly. His thighs squeeze around him and a shudder wracks throughout his entire body. It transfers equally as strong into Lance. A sharp pain explodes over Lance’s scalp as Keith folds over him and grips his hair painfully, rasping like he can’t breathe by Lance’s ear.

“Fuck.” Keith’s hips grind down more obviously this time. It isn’t long before they really start pushing in a steady rhythm.

There’s an undeniable bulge that drags over Lance, pressing against his backside. From what he can gather, the shape of Keith is already hard and thick. Not nearly enough to enjoy through all that fabric between them but pleasant in its promise for more. Lance arches finely, welcoming the friction as he props himself on his elbows. 

He smiles, watching Keith enjoy himself over his shoulder.

After he’s had his fill of that minor essence, Lance stretches his arm to trail his fingers along Keith’s side, redirecting his attention. “Let me go,” he attempts to persuade Keith through his frantic rocking. Cautious but firm in his demand. “I’ll help you out. Make you feel good.”

His other hand is released without protest. Lance wastes no time in flipping their positions. 

It doesn’t take much to get Keith compliant underneath him, where Lance takes his time enjoying the view of desperation clouding his judgement. The poor guy is completely shot into a state so horny he might as well be Lance. There’s great urgency as he mindlessly rubs against Lance, rutting as hard as possible to get off.

Lance holds him steady with his thighs bracketing his hips, severely restricting his movement and denying him the pleasure. He smudges some excess blood dripping from Keith’s chin, then lifts it to his own lips. Lapping in one long stripe of his tongue. 

A deep flush consumes the rest of Keith’s face.

“You’re a mess,” Lance teases. Keith remains speechless.

They shed their pants. 

“Too greedy.” 

Lance inches Keith’s shirt off, palms running along his chest during his journey to discard it. Once the fabric is out of the way, Lance pinches two fingers together, catching a nipple between them. He ghosts his mouth over the nub and Keith rattles off a moan. 

A warm hand wraps behind Lance’s neck, pulling him forward. 

Their lips crash together. They pull away and come back many times, enjoying the pressure and calculated slide of each other’s mouths. 

It’s true that Lance has kissed many people before, but no one quite like this. First and foremost, Keith is forceful in his approach and tastes of blood, which takes some getting used to. When Lance adapts to the pace he sets, sinking into the inviting warmth, Keith slips his tongue past the seam of his parting lips and presses against the roof of his mouth. 

Keith is ineffably confident. Lance knows what he wants without having to read his energy.

Accordingly, he tangles their bodies together. His thigh slips between Keith’s groin with his ankle hooked around one of his feet. They’re molded into one another at every point they possibly can be. It’s nice. Keith is soft in places Lance wasn’t expecting.

“I’m going to teach you some restraint,” Lance announces as he struggles to escape Keith’s intense oral fixation. He’s moved on to sucking and biting down his neck, though not taking anymore blood, merely nibbling at the skin. 

That’s giving Lance some better ideas. 

Red eyes narrow in distaste. Somehow still belligerent behind the intensity of Lance’s demon influence.

“Funny that you think you’re the first to try,” Keith scoffs. 

Exactly as Lance has anticipated, Keith rolls them over so he’s on top once more. Their hands tangle into each other’s hair. Lips gravitating inches away. Before they can make contact, the change causes Lance’s knee to bump more intently into Keith’s erection. Keith loses it for a few seconds, rubbing himself against like an animal in heat, lost in the sensation.

Lance encourages it. He moves with him, watching as Keith’s reddened lips fall apart, chasing the climax he knows Lance won’t let him have.

What a sight he makes. He’s wonderfully responsive, half out of his mind after barely being touched.

Lance stops moving. The cry Keith gives is sweet music to his ears. 

“Turn around,” he urges him. Keith’s brows pinch together as if he wants to question why, but he obeys with a disgruntled grumble, turning so that the round swell of his ass and his swollen cock is hanging inches away from Lance’s face.

Wrapping a hand around his own length, Lance pumps himself a few times, positioning it toward Keith while he settles a firm hand to the small of Keith’s back.

“Suck,” he says, “And no biting. If you let those fangs go anywhere near here, there will be trouble later.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Keith replies, deadpan.

Lance shoves him down onto his cock. Relishes in the sound of Keith choking in surprise. The warmth of his mouth enveloping him doesn’t deter Lance from lifting to his elbows to take Keith between his lips at the same time.

The thing is, Lance’s magic is powerful, okay? It works in mysterious ways. While he’s a fair bit gone himself, his pheromones have an influence on most of his partners in a way that they wouldn’t normally experience, outside of feeling pleasure beyond their wildest dreams.

Still, he’s gentle as he moves to confirm that Keith is already prepared, circling lightly around his rim to test the resistance he might be met with. Luckily, it’s already dripping with that sickly sweet substance. Keith makes a strangled noise around his cock, his careful rhythm skipping a beat or two.

Lance takes him in deeper. Contracts his throat as he breathes through his nose, lips meeting with the coarse hair at his groin. God, Keith is a mouthful, something he could see himself spending hours tasting and teasing and using inside him. He shudders when he feels more vibrations on his cock as Keith responds.

Wriggling one finger to the knuckle past Keith’s rim, Lance’s hips pitch forward. Keith’s increasing his pace with the unexpected intrusion. His opening is slick and loose like Lance hoped for. He wishes he could see Keith’s face, but fuck if the view isn’t amazing as it is. 

When he works in another finger, crooking both in towards his belly, Keith jerks off him for the first time. Lance feels cool air fall around him, his length twitching at the sudden lack of stimulation. Keith lays, panting at his navel, mouth trapped around a silent scream while his hands anchor themselves on Lance’s thighs.

“L- _ance_ ,” he says, voice husky with need.

Mouthing toward his thigh, Lance feels sharp teeth insinuate along his skin. They puncture the surface before Lance can reprimand Keith for not following the rules, but all he does is gasp in half pained ecstasy when his fangs sink into where his upper thigh meets his groin. When Keith harshly sucks on the spot, well—he nearly bursts untouched. 

That only encourages Lance. He scissors his fingers and pistons them faster. In the heat of the moment, Keith scrambles to stay focused but fails, his nails digging into Lance’s thighs as he moans softly and rides Lance’s probing fingers. 

Blowjob completely forgotten. Feeding completely abandoned.

To even the playing field, Lance slips off him. 

“See?” He chuckles. Continuing to work him open, adding another finger into the mix. “No restraint. Can’t even keep up with your end of the responsibilities.”

A short huff sounds. Keith seems to be preparing for a quick comeback, but Lance doesn’t want him capable of forming words anymore. He wants him to forget they’re even a thing that exists at all.

Tapping onto that sweet spot, he thrusts repeatedly with everything in him. Keith shoots to his knees, back arching beautifully and neck snapping to the ceiling. Along the way he makes a grab at Lance’s tail, pulling it roughly with him as he bounces over Lance’s face, levering himself. Whether it’s out of spite or because he’s absolutely lost his mind with it all, Lance can’t find it in him to care.

It hurts so good. That’s a sensitive spot of his that people don’t often resort to trying, more comparable to being somewhat of a weakness to Lance rather than a turn on.

Usually, anyway. Here, he could get used to this. The buzzing it creates along his tailbone, combined with that familiar soft touch as Keith regains his manners to clumsily wrap a hand around his length again.

“C-coming,” Keith shutters the strained warning, and Lance squeezes around the base of his cock at the last second.

“Get me off first,” he instructs Keith.

Keith shakes his head tiredly. “Not gonna make it.” He jerks in Lance’s hand from the denial, pre-cum spurting pitifully from the tip. 

His hair is sticking to his neck and shoulders with sweat. Lance takes a brief moment to admire the flex of his back while he struggles to hold himself upright. The fat of his ass jiggles as Lance strikes him.

Lance slows to a complete stop inside him, pulling his soaked fingers out and smoothing them over the redness he created on the targeted cheek. They leave a glistening path behind. “How about now? Can you focus better?”

There’s a crude tug on Lance’s tail. More grumbling. “You’re such a fucking asshole,” Keith curses him, beyond frustrated.

It doesn’t take long for him to work Lance into an explosive finish as he replaces his hand with tongue. The curl of it, skilled. Wet and molten around his girth. Well worth the wait. Lance’s final undoing is the lewd gag of Keith being so overeager that he chokes himself in his hurry to please him. 

While Lance shakes through the orgasm the crests over him without warning, Keith smears blood from his thigh to his chest, still warm in its flow from when he bit Lance.

Rational faculties slip back into place, Lance’s power quickly replenishing. Impatient, Keith turns around, sitting on his chest with the most indignant look on his face.

“Now finish me off,” he demands, petulant.

“What is this to you, a round of _Mortal Kombat_?”

Keith stares blankly. Lance sighs, skating his palms along Keith’s thighs and tugging him forward. Distracted by the move, he doesn’t notice Lance’s tail sneaking to loop around his wrists until he’s flailing to get free from the snare that binds them behind his back.

Lance cracks his knuckles, fingers springing to life with flame. 

He grins. Keith’s eyes stretch wide with fear.

“I think it’s time I taught you some real lessons, bat boy. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lemonistics)/[tumblr](https://lemonistics.tumblr.com/)


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